One Night in Gay Paris
by Hippy Chick1964
Summary: Through Ianto, Jack tells us more about his connections to Torchwood and its staff.  Edits by Michelle Hall.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

_Trying to account for the troubles you've found  
>Hey could you use a little help to be honest with yourself<br>See it tear you up, and it calls your bluff  
>When the lie that keeps you warm, is the truth you're counting on<em>

-"Bluff" from Pilot Speed

Being emotionally tethered to an immortal alien comes with its own set of complexities. Most people can flip through pages of their lover's family photo album like clicks on smart phone. But exploring Jack Harkness' past is more like an Egyptian archeological expedition. And the more I dig, the more interesting tangles I find. Tonight would be no exception.

It was a few weeks before Gwen's wedding. I was spending more time than usual in the archives to keep out from under Jack's foul mood. Everyone else was avoiding him too – Owen went to a medical convention on clavicle replacement surgery (a strange topic for a man whose treatments were mostly on dead bodies); Toshiko was scouring electronics wholesalers for computer equipment; and Gwen was off with Rhys picking caterers and reception venues. This gave Jack a wide birth to pace and grumble. Usually, the others were at a loss about Jack's moods and were used to him not sharing details. They depended on me to explain things to them if it was something to do with Torchwood and the rest they preferred not to know.

But everyone knew what was eating at Jack this time – Gwen's wedding – although they had different takes on why. Owen thought it was jealously, that he "had gotten to it and Jack hadn't". Tosh felt that Jack was very lonely and wanted what Rhys and Gwen had. And Gwen, well, she thought Jack was just sore he hadn't returned in time before Rhys had popped the question. Only I knew the truth was much more complicated than jealousy, loneliness, or timing. A set of photos from just after the Great War told a tale the others couldn't even imagine. But at that point all I had were shattered fragments, a bundle of curiosity, and a hunch.

Two things always got Jack out of a bad mood, talking about himself or a lengthy blow job. The latter may not have given me the information I was looking for, so despite the deliciousness of the idea, I decided on the former. I emerged from the basement and walked into his office in the early evening, though such timing is hard to discern in the windowless Torchwood Hub. I approached him slowly, tentatively with the sleeves of my off-white shirt rolled neatly to the elbows. My tie was slightly ajar and there was the faintest of dust on the right knee of my navy blue pinstriped pants.

I found him watching the Moxisum Tracus, the white corral creature that grew on platter of shallow water resting on his desk. A half empty bottle of hypervodka, its mouth still warm and wet from his lips, rested casually to his right. "You're slipping Ianto," he mocked, placing the magnifying glass on the desk and crooking his head slightly over his shoulder, "Took you at least two hours this time to find something interesting to grill me about."

"You've been somewhat inaccessible lately, wouldn't you say?"

"Never stopped you before."

True but why give him more ammo. I walked over to him and dropped the unmarked file folder on the desk. Photos peeked out like wayward pubic hairs through a swimsuit. "What do we have this time?" he said as he opened it. A crooked smile grew across his face and then disappeared as he started arranging the pictures like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Only he had the concept of the full picture. Jack's voice grew serious, "Paris circa 1919. Where did you find these?"

I don't give away all of my secrets, not even to him, "Who are the people there?"

He sighed and I could almost feel those sweet blue eyes of his soften misty, "Richard and Carol. We were in the war together."

I grabbed a folding chair and pulled it up to the desk next to him, brushing against his leg while doing so. I was wearing his favorite cologne, _Terre d'Hermès_. He said it made me smell like an English forest. He'd make me wear it whenever we went camping and would fuck me for hours in a bed of wet grass and soft moss as a reward. Being sensitive to smells, his reaction was predictable. One whiff and he was ready to pounce. No sooner had my ass hit the chair this time did he reach to grab my face for a kiss. I stopped him with a finger against his lips before his charms won the campaign. "Story first.," I demanded.

He growled and pouted before sitting back in his chair. With a frown, he came back to the photos and began arranging again. He face became serious and his gestures more like a gypsy organizing Tarot cards. This took some time and I could tell it was pulling memories from him some of which were quite sad and others critical to my investigation. I was on to something and getting anxious to know what it all meant.

He picked up one of the smaller pictures. Jack was in his uniform (looking simply dashing, I might add) standing with his arm around another man in Army uniform. "That's Richard, Richard Cooper." Jack held the photo like a treasured memory. "We were mates, served as part of the Bluffs, the 3rd Regiment, 6th Battalion. We became fast friends from the moment we met and spent the weeks before our orders getting drunk and chasing cute French damsels." He tapped the picture for emphasize, "This was taken after drinks at a base canteen." Jack ran his finger across the man's face like a blind man traces braille, "Rich was a conscript and survived when others were falling like flies. They called him 'Lucky Dickie', well, until he met me."

He stopped talking, lost in his memories, "You're not boring me." I took the picture from him and looked at it more closely, "Were you sleeping together?"

Jack gave me that 'you've got to be kidding me' look then continued, "They paired us up for obvious reasons, a man who couldn't die with a man who never saw a bullet. Our first time out together, we were assigned to cross over enemy lines and blow up a supply bridge. We blew up the bridge but before we could get back to camp, we were spotted by a group of the Kaiser's finest." He possessively took the photo back from me. "Rich was shot up real bad and so was I. I played dead in a nearby ditch so Fritz would pass us but Rich, limp in the middle of the road, wasn't exactly playing. He had lost a lot of blood and his leg was badly mangled." Jack put the one photo down and picked up another of the same man sitting up in an infirmary bed giving a thumbs-up sign, "I carried him 12 miles across the lines to an army hospital."

"Who's the nurse?"

"Anna."

"She gorgeous, even in that uniform and her hair tied up like some school teacher."

"We thought so," Jack said grinning, handing me the picture.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"_Unsealed on a porch a letter sat.  
>Then you said, "I wanna leave it again."<br>Once I saw her on a beach of weathered sand. And on the sand I wanna leave it again. Yeah.  
>On a weekend I wanna wish it all away, yeah.<br>And they called and I said that "I want what I said" and then I call out again.  
>And the reason oughta' leave her calm, I know.<br>I said "I know what I wear not the boxer or the bag._

_Ah yeah, can you see them out on the porch? Yeah, but they don't wave.  
>But I see them round the front way. Yeah.<br>And I know, and I know. I don't want to stay.  
>Make me cry..."<em>

- Pearl Jam, "Yellow Ledbetter"

I put a Zojirushi Coffee Maker in Jack's office to make it easier for me to make him feel special. I have a cup brewing regularly at this time of day, set by a timer arranged when I first get in – grinding then brewing at my command. I am a good servant.

I walked over to the tall end table and poured a cup for both of us. We both like it black but he needs a hint of Splenda to "match the sweetness in my eyes while maintaining his girlish figure," he says. I walk back over to him with both our mugs, putting one cup on the desk in front of him. He looks up at me with a grateful smile until I took the shot glass overflowing with hypervodka out of his hand and poured the contents into the coffee cup. "Evil bitch," he said while taking a sip.

"Tell me about Richard and Anna," I said sitting back down and pulling my chair close to his desk. "Start with Richard." He raised an eyebrow and looked at me sideways, like he often does. I took a large swallow of the sweet, Colombian Supremo and waited - something else I am good at.

Jack sighed, giving in, "The war was winding down but the grunts didn't know that yet." I didn't bother asking him how he knew that then, "as the commanders in the front acted like there was a fight to finish and set up orders like tomorrow's group wasn't as tired as yesterday's." He took another sip and, finding it satisfying, went on again but this time with gusto. "Like I said, they billed me for risky missions."

"Is that how you ended up in the war?"

"Naw, Aliyah got me in."

"Rabbi Teelbaulm?" She is Jack's mother figure and mentor – an immortal from the planet Jershun Prime who Jack met at the time agency and probably one of the only bipeds who hasn't succumb to his charms. "Pulling you out of what depression?"

"I had lost a wife to the Spanish flu the year before." He spoke in a hushed volume. The sadness in his voice would have stilled walls during an earthquake. "I went off, off world for 10 years on a bender."

I didn't present the obvious time question – how did you go off-world in 1917, be gone ten years and come back early 1918? "What about Torchwood?"

"I said I was running, didn't I?"

"Ah, yes. So how did the Rabbi get you to come back?"

"Really, Ianto!" he laughed. "You know how she is."

"Yes, quite," I said thoughtfully. Unbeknownst to him, she was the one who convinced me to stick it out with Jack. She convinced me that this was good for both of us – that there was more than just sex between us – and was still teaching me how to be with him. "But what specifically brought you back?"

"It was one of the few times Torchwood reached out to me without a painful stick being involved. By this time, The Doctor had given me limited time/space travel capability through my vortex manipulator. I guess he got tired of me whining." He took a satisfying gulp, "I could escape when I wanted to within reason and return to the 20th Century."

"That's where the limits lay?"

"Precisely." Another gulp and he sat it down on the coaster, smiling at me generously, hinting that I'd have to do the legwork to get specifics on the mission – I'll take care of that later. For now, he settled back in his dark blue rolling office chair, hands interlaced atop his head, ready to tell the human interest part of the story, "By the time I returned, the idea that the war would only last a few months was washed away in sea of blood and blown apart in tides of mustard gas until there was fear everywhere but America that all of Europe would splinter into tiny, little pieces. Mutinies and desertions were commonplace in France, Canada, Britain, and of course Russia. The real reason the war ended wasn't so much that the allies won as that everyone refused to fight anymore and lay the blame for it all at Germany's feet."

"You'd better watch it, Jack Harkness. You're sounding dangerously close to being a sympathizer!"

His voice became serious, hush, "You didn't see it, Ianto. The pictures don't come close to conveying the carnage. I've seen many wars on many planets – warrior peoples whose whole life is nothing but murder and conquest. But this was different. Earth wasn't ready for this."

His eyes got tearful and distant. I touched his arm to bring him back, "How did you and Richard meet again?"

"Ah yeah, he was back from the German front around New Year's, 1918. He was making trouble after the debacle the previous November where the British generals failed to take advantage with their secret weapon."

"Ah, The Battle of Cambrai, where we introduced the tank," I said, proud of my off the cuff memory from my 10th year European Wars class.

"Yes," he said, cackling at my nerdiness. "Richard was something of a ramble rouser, rageful at the unnecessary death around him. He complained so much that he caught the attention of the upper brass and someone wanted payback or just to have him out of the way. I, on the other hand, was back from the Ottoman theater where I was fighting with British forces. I had been causing my own kinda of headache but that's for another story. Anyway, between battles, us lucky ones got time in gay Paris and spent nights gambling, drinking, and screwing away the stench of death. I was in this little café many of us went to. Richard caught me at my favorite pastime."

"Whoring?"

"No," he frowned, "gambling, at that time. I was holding shitty hand and bluffing this 6'3" beefy, blowhard French lieutenant whose English was even worse than his poker. Out of nowhere, Richard blasted in the door, drunk with a bleached blonde French girl on each arm and shouting the inadequacies of the France army – declaring that this spoke to the size of their penises. Needless to say, this irritated my poker partner, who eventually got up screaming in French which for all accounts probably detailed the various ways he was going to disembowel someone. Now, I don't mind a scam now and again but I usually like my gambling straight forward and honest."

"Really?" I said incredulously.

"Really. So I began to intervene, trying to get Richard to be quiet and back off. Let me tell you, this lieutenant was his regimental La Savate champion and rumor had it he nearly killed his last opponent."

"La Savate?"

"It a French form of kickboxing, founded in the poorer sections of Paris around the mid 1800s. It's brutal but highly effective and this guy was a bit drunk himself as well as more than a bit of a nationalist. I could see this was going to have a bad ending. Plus, I was winning and I couldn't have my success if my partner gets called off to a brawl." I gave him another "you have to be kidding look" but self-less sensibility was a foreign concept to Jack Harkness. "Well, as other folk were trying to just get out the way, including the blondes," he continued, "Just as I was walking in-between the two of them, Richard, a tall but rather lanky fella, landed a powerful, missile guided right kick meant for the lieutenant that landed instead right at the base of my forehead. I was out cold and if I didn't regenerate, I'd probably have been left a babbling idiot living out the rest of my life drooling in someone's asylum. When I came to, Richard was leaning over me apologetically and a couple of medics were trying to figure out they were going to lift my former poker partner into the ambulance. Turns out Richard learned an adaptation of what was now called 'Bartitsu' from a famous teacher, Henry Lang, when he first entered the army and trained in India. What he didn't have in bulk, he made up for in speed – several patrons who actually witnessed the fight said my French friend never saw the second blow coming."

"And you?"

"I got points for being such a sport about it. Richard said, 'Sorry mate. You know I was aiming to kill him and would have felt like bloody shit if I'd hurt you instead.' When he saw how I just shook it off, I guess I gained some modicum of respect in his eyes. We became fast friends after that, spending most of the summer drinking and womanizing our way throughout Paris."

"I thought you'd said there was a relationship of sorts."

"Not at first. Things happened accidentally actually. All Richard talked about was girls and never gave me any indication that a pass from me would illicit anything but another blow, so it was a surprise when one night after dropping off a couple of ladies he asked me if I ever 'knocked around with any men'. I had never shared any of those experiences with him nor did he know about Torchwood – seemed too much for a guy who had come straight to the military from a small Welsh town. But the war had widened the eyes of many a solider, Brits and American doughboys alike. Suddenly, a world they had only heard about in hushed voices and dime novels was right in front of them and offering an easy taste."

"So how did you answer his question?" Despite the heat from my coffee cup, I clinched the sides reveling in its warmth.

"He asked at first while we were still walking but I put it off to drink and ignored him. It so happened that it was near curfew and we weren't going to make it back to base so we held up in an inn on the edge of town for the night. Rooms were expensive for a foot soldier's salary, so we shared a room that really was no bigger than two closets glued together. I was going to take the chair since I didn't sleep much anyway but before I could get settled in he asked again. 'Come on, Harkness, I'm you're mate. I mean, this is France, right? I've seen all rounds of things since I left Cowbridge.' I normally I avoid virgins, especially male ones – they either fall in love with you out of gratitude or wanna fight you cuz you've just shattered their macho-man masculine meta-fantasy – like an organism for an ass fucking is any different from that coming from your dick."

"So you kissed him?"

Jack looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "No, I fucked the hell outta him the whole night!" I rolled my eyes. "Hell, he encouraged me – every night our assignment in September."

"Nobody noticed?"

"Nay, we were mates and mates getting drunk together then passing out in the same rooming house was common. Besides, by that time things were so bad, so many dead, the commanders didn't care as long as you didn't mutiny or go AWOL," he answered before taking another gulp. He looked off like replaying some old photo album, "Sex let him talk about other things – his fears that the war wouldn't end or would end badly and we'd be back at it again and his dreams as he wanted desperately to return home and take over his father's locksmith business, marry some great girl and have a shit load of babies."

"A bit strange, wouldn't you say? I mean to talk that while lying in some man's arms?"

"It was how things were done back then – well before Stonewall and gay rights in America, men didn't consider civil unions and cohabitating. You may love men but you still did your duty."

"And you?" I said with more jealousy leaking between my words than I would have liked.

"That was a good time, that summer – one of the best," he flashed me one of his classic, reassuring grins, "But I couldn't say I was in love with Richard nor would I believe he loved me that way, I've known the difference."

Emboldened, I asked, "And where did Anna fall into this idyllic picture of Roman romance?"

Jack guiltily rubbed the back of his neck, "Well, that on the other hand is the other third of the story."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"_Oh, give me the beat boys and free my soul  
>I wanna get lost in your rock n roll<br>And drift away._

_Na, Na, now won't ya  
>Won't ya take me<br>Oh-ha, take me."_

- "Drift Away", Dobie Gray

"If never I eat another caper or deviled egg it won't be long enough," said Gwen bursting into Jack's office. She catches Jack and I in various states of nudity so often, I often think she harbors slash fantasies. Did I note a bit of disappointment on her face when she found us, this time, fully dressed and simply talking? "Ah, I'm not interrupting, am I?" she said anyway.

Jack smiled pleasantly at her, like a kindly uncle to a naughty niece. "Not at all, you just got me out of 'Midnight Confessions' with Ianto."

I rolled my eyes at him, "Want some coffee? I was about to make a small batch."

"No, I just couldn't . . . got to sleep tonight. I've got the dress fitting at 8am sharp. It's just I told Rhys to meet me here after he got my car from the shop," she said while dropping down on a nearby couch. "I would kill for a cup of that new tea you got, Ianto."

"Coming up," I said. Although known for my coffees, lately I have incorporated a select set of fine herbal teas to help the team wind down when our stressors reach an unusually high pitch. The one Gwen was referring to is especially relaxing, with a nice combination of chamomile, jasmine and a touch of mint.

"So, what are you two doing on an unusual day without much rift or other otherwise alien activity?"

I was putting the kettle on the single burner next to the coffee maker, "Jack was telling me of some of his adventures during the Great War."

"Ah really!" She sat up and looked eagerly at Jack, "Fill me in, eh! Your stories are so much more exciting than what I could get out of my grandparents."

"I found these great photos from the Torchwood archives," I walked over to the desk where they lay scattered but before I could grab one to show her, Jack pulled them into a stack out of my reach.

"Maybe some other time," he said with an unexpectedly curt tone.

Gwen looked at him queerly, looked at me then I shrugged my shoulders. "Oh, right then." She reached into her black leather jacket to retrieve her ringing mobile, "Ah, it's Rhys. My car is probably ready, _finally_." Before placing the phone to her ear, she commented, "I'll just have to dig it all out of Ianto later then." She bounced off the couch, thoughts of Jack and me immediately replaced by wedding bliss. I saw Jack's eyes shift to disappointment. Not that I don't know he has feelings for Gwen but something comforting tells me that those feelings are not some simple attraction or flirtatious excitement – something tells me I have nothing to fear there.

I turn around to the screeching kettle, "Would you prefer tea or another coffee?"

It took a minute for my words to reach him and I could see him dismissing inner musings, "What? Yeah, yeah . . . hot tea would be just fine."

I made the cup silently, allowing the leaves to seep for exactly 4 minutes before straining and only then adding a half-tablespoon of agave sweetener. I stirred it a couple of times before handing the cup to Jack. His mind was still walking out the door with Gwen, so I sought to bring him back, "Does Gwen remind you of Anna?"

I must of hit the right note because his hand shook slightly as he took the cup and saucer from me. Jack gave me the look one gives the gypsy palm reader who easily calls forth the right answer. "I'm not interested in talking anymore, Ianto." He took a sip of the tea to distract me, "Great tea though! Perfectly brewed, as usual."

Since being with Jack, I have learned the fine art of sexual manipulation. Those with extraordinarily large appetites can be easily distracted with the simplest actions as such to not only encourage their egos but temporarily placate their thirst, leaving them open to suggestion much like a hypnotist's victim. After taking a quick sip of tea myself, I let the cup slip slowly from my lips and gave him a devilish smirk, "Well, looks like interruptions are done for the day." I put the cup and saucer down next to his, leaving my hand around the rim just a heartbeat longer to draw his attention. His eyes dropped down, as I expected, since his desk is just below hip level. "I'll turn down the lights. Why don't you sit on the couch?"

"You're getting awfully pushy lately, aren't you Ianto Jones?" he said upon standing. He walked over to the full, black leather couch and situated himself in the same spot as Gwen had just moments before. He pushed aside his braces, slumped down, and unhooked his slacks.

"I would prefer the French, _autoritaire_," I regarded as I walked over to turn the lights down low, a blue hue illuminated the room with dancing shadows against the glass wall. I turned and faced him, stalking toward him slowly with a smile that feels sincere and hides my ulterior motive. Women aren't the only ones who use sex as a weapon. "Sometimes you get so tense and need to, 'release and relax'."

"Good ol', Ianto," he says calmly, casually stroking his cock, "always the consummate valet, butler, foot man, barista . . . ."

He sought to wound me with that last one. "Don't you ever tire of being lonely?"

"Come on, Ianto. Let's not ruin a perfectly adequate erection now, eh?" I acquiesced by taking off my suit coat and tossing it next to him, uncertain if I just lost a battle or made it harder to win the war. He nodded, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the back of the couch, "I'll finish the story afterwards," he opened one dancing blue eye at me, "I promise." I rolled up my sleeves with some speed at his reassurance. Was I grinning? "Besides," he settled back further, shifting himself as I kneeled in front of his spread legs, "Who could deny a request made in such a 'giving' fashion?"

Who indeed?

"Colonel Briggins was the typical British commander of the time," Jack said after we were done. I lay stretched horizontal on the couch with my head resting on his thigh, facing the ceiling. He sat upright, talking while staring directly ahead. His naked thigh is warm, firm and unusually soft for a man. I drape one leg out of the blanket onto the floor but have the rest of my body tucked close against his skin. My left hand is across my eyes blocking out all light, even the monitor's dancing blue shadows. I created something of a movie theater darkness and with Jack's words, music from the iPod, and my memories of the old photos something of a documentary formed in my mind. "Briggins talked incessantly about duty, country, and the King, particularly before a dangerous mission. That shit sounded ridiculous to anybody who had been in a trench for even a moment. But I suppose he had to tell new recruits something, if not for them but for himself as he was the one who wrote the letters back home when they died, weeks if not days after such a speech," Jack's voice drifted again but to a sadder place. He pulled himself back on his own this time, "Briggins told us that high command wanted Richard and I for a special assignment. We were to blow up a bridge by a town called Hirson to help American forces break the German lines in Belgium. Getting over to it wasn't a problem but getting back to our side was. There weren't too many trenches, just once you got to the bridge itself, and that was on the other side – so if you hit the bridge, the best Fritz could do was to shoot at the water in frustration. We were to plant two sets of timed bombs – one on a long timer at the bridge and the other some space off to draw attention away from our goal. Our scouts had spotted a handful of their troops wandering around but they couldn't be certain how many. Also, we didn't have long fuses, for fear of warning the enemy, so we had to plant the explosives and get out of the area fast."

"The danger was no problem. Frankly, we had gotten bored and probably had overextended our welcome in various bars across Paris. More importantly, Richard was restless, eager to go home and set up his ideal family world and run his dad's business." Jack sighed, "And I was tired of a war the end of which I already knew." He rested his hand on my chest, its warmth made me smile inside.

"We packed that afternoon and left at dusk. We wound across the countryside without incident, seeing nor encountering nothing and no one by the time we got to the bridge. Hiding in a ditch near the steps onto the bridge, we could smell the fires from the German trench camp on the other side. I unraveled the fuse for the first timed bomb and set it ready for lighting. Richard crawled out of the ditch and quickly wadded in the water to hitch the second bomb underneath the far edge of the bridge. He then signaled to me to throw one of the distraction grenades. I threw it north but on our side of the bridge. As it exploded, I was lighting my timed unit, as Richard leaped into my spot after lighting his device. We both took off running but were sighted almost immediately by a German patrol, probably the ones the scouts had seen earlier. We may have made it since they were some distance from us but one of the bastards got a lucky shot, hit Richard right in the leg, blowing it clear off. Richard tried to shoo me on but I was going to bring him back to his dad if I had to drag him all the way there. By the time they nearly reached us, my distraction device exploded. Quick thinking had me fall atop of Richard, so I caught all the shrapnel and died instantly."

Jack must have noticed that I'd stopped breathing, as he ceased talking and rubbed my chest to reassure me. I've wrapped myself around the immortality thing but the constant death and resurrection part always puts my mind spinning.

"Well, when they got up to us, Richard had enough sense to hold his breath and play dead, he later told me. Luckily too when they started to examine us, one of the bombs exploded, throwing them several kilometers and killing them. I came to feeling Richard feebly struggling to come from underneath me."

He paused and I could feel the anguish of this memory. He rubbed my chest again but now more like someone petting a dog for one's own comfort. "Like I said, his leg was shot off and, in case you didn't know it, dying hurts _and_ I still had shrapnel from two different bombs stuck in me. Needless to say, I was weak but Richard was losing blood fast and would die if I didn't get him to a medic fast. So, I picked him up, swung him over my shoulders and began walking, no actually running back to camp. Briggins said they could hear my shouts for a mile. When I got there, I collapsed – woke up in a field hospital some 100 miles from camp, opened my eyes to the loveliest woman I'd seen in quite a while. She looked like one of the _femme fatales_ out of a Valentino movie dressed up in salvation."

I recalled her from the picture, but black and white leaves out so much, particularly with females. So I asked, "Describe Anna to me, Jack."

"Anna Bresford was a contrast. She could be as tough as nails, no one better when you're in a pickle. When new wounded came in, she snapped into gear and organized things without breaking a sweat. She had to be the only member of Queen Alexandra's Royal Army Nursing Corps who actively carried a weapon as a matter of course. Story went that a group of her nurses were attacked while tending the wounded in the field and she pulled that gun, threatening to shoot the German captain who ordered the ambush of clearly wounded soldiers. From then on, the French troops would call her _chienne dure_, roughly translated as 'tough bitch'. But she could sit and talk to a solider and make him feel like she was his sweetheart, his dear mom, or his firm but loving aunt all rolled up in one. She had wide, deep brown eyes that that spoke volumes about how much she cared about the boys she was responsible for. Her hair was long – she would call it her 'unruly mane' and slips of thick, black strands would fall from her cap and frustrate her to no end." Jack began to stroke my hair, absentmindedly, "But it was soft as yours." I wasn't sure if I should take that as a compliment but I think he meant it as one. "Stop becoming jealous so easily, man. I mean my G-d, the woman's probably been dead for decades!"

I shrugged. Having a relationship with a man who has had relationships with numerous types of creatures across who knows how many galaxies over who knows how many time periods, backwards and forwards – these things really fuck with your mind!

"Anyway, she seemed to take a particular shine to Richard and I. She said she liked my eyes, 'pretty as a laughing baby and about as devilish as a naughty school boy'."

"She got that part right!"

He tapped harshly at my cheek in playful retaliation. "As I was saying, she liked to talk with Richard, who was very well-read. He found her fascinating, particularly her interest in the new and growing field of psychology. She was ahead of her time, recognizing that shell shock, what we now call post-traumatic stress disorder, was a real illness, not a sign of cowardliness." I could feel him smile again, but this time in admiration.

"Anyway, I couldn't keep secretly re-injuring myself, as she was getting suspicious and Richard was soon getting fitted for a prosthesis. This sunk him into a deep depression – it was like putting that wooden leg on made the loss of his leg all the more permanent, more real for him, while without it he could pretend he could just get out of bed whenever he wanted. But she wouldn't let him give up and kept on him, pushing him to do the rehabilitation and learn to use the leg as much as he possible. She told him, 'Don't leave your determination back on that battlefield for Fritz to take it anytime he wants!' I came to the hospital everyday after my release and helped too – typically by teasing or quietly reminding him that his 'attitude would do little to sway the ladies'. I tried to be as encouraging as I could be, considering the circumstances."

"Did you two . . . I mean while he was in the hospital . . .?" I asked.

"Argh, naw! It's not like folks had private rooms or anything. There were constantly folks going in and out, all times, day and night. It was war after all. Anyway, Richard and I's my relationship had cooled on that front before that."

"Why?"

"I never quite knew. The last couple of nights out prior to the mission, he got his own room instead of staying with me – said he wanted some time alone. I suspect things were feeling too close for him. I didn't mind, actually and I understood – he was not exactly 'gay' but 'interested' when the situation presents itself in such a fabulous package."

My eyes were still closed under my arm but I could feel him consider me at this story pause. "Well, working with him through his convalescence, the three of us became tight friends. As part of his 'therapy', Anna suggested taking him out on the town, much like we used to when he and I first met. Anna thought getting used to being crippled around those who care about you first would go a long way toward dealing with the rest of the world, who were not likely to be so kind. He grumbled but went along with it, probably more to please her than because he particularly believed in the treatment. But, it did work and soon I began to see the old Richard. Soon thereafter, the armistice was called and we were all waiting for our dispatches home. But there was time to celebrate with the rest of Paris, and the three of us did that. We hit every type of drinking establishment that existed – Anna and I would dance until she complained of hurt feet then in-between, Richard and she would joyfully argue politics, science and anything else that was convenient at the moment. Soon though, we couldn't avoid the pain of facing our separation."

"What were Anna's plans?"

"She said she had applied for a nursing position in London, where her older brother and sister-in-law lived but she was certain that he was going to immediately start pressuring her to marry as soon as possible. Their parents had died when she was 10 and he had raised her. He was the conservative type and couldn't stomach the idea of a woman working, even in her profession."

"She didn't want to marry?"

"Ah, she wanted to marry alright but to someone who had the same liberal ideas she had, someone who would respect her work and ambitions. Richard was waffling on his idea of returning home, certain from his mother's letters that his family was prepared for his new condition but unclear how the rest of his small town mates would treat him."

"And what were your plans?"

"I was heading back to Torchwood. Didn't seem a day went by that I didn't get a cable demanding my return, threatening dire consequences due to some made-up rift activity that required investigation only I could perform," he scoffed loudly. "So as the time got closer to Anna's leaving, we seemed to be all avoiding each other, coming up with excuses and phony commander orders to keep from facing one another. But one night, Anna came to the hotel room I was staying at – hell, I'm not sure how she found me. I was supposed to be spending the evening with a dancehall girl but she pulled out at the last minute."

I imagined Anna watching Jack from some distance, wooing some over-painted whore. Then, catching the woman as she went back to her dressing room, Anna would offer the woman more than she could make spending the night with Jack if she "kindly found another customer at some other spot". Anna would then return to her lookout spot and wait for Jack to give up, hoping his ADHD didn't drive him to someone else in the meanwhile. Then it was simply a matter of following him back to the room where she could seem to appear out of thin air. I was beginning to like this woman.

"She arrived with a basket of wine, bread, cheese and grapes making the excuse that Richard 'was in one of his moods' and she 'wanted to be jolly tonight since she was leaving in a couple of days'. I was a little tipsy, having indulged earlier, so thought nothing of it until she straddled me on the chair."

"You had no idea she held such feelings for you?"

"Well, not really. She was flirtatious, especially after a few glasses of wine but never had made an overt pass."

"What did you feel?"

"I thought she was the strongest, most beautiful woman in the world . . . but, . . ."

I imagined rubenseque thighs, with tight hips and curves just where they should be, wrapped around Jack's waist. I could feel her nails tugging to leverage her hips up to meet his thrusts. I could hear her moaning and pleading. I could smell her sex and his, which led to an instant erection on my part. Then, I could see her face and it shook me. It looked like . . .

". . .but," Jack continued, oblivious to my reactions, "I shouldn't have slept with her. I didn't realize until it got down to things that she was a virgin."

That statement brought me back, "Geeze, Jack!"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

_So where is the piano and the big bass drum? _

_And the clashing of __cymbals__. _

_I need some running frantic notes, some lines of panic and desperation. _

_Cause your infatuation demands satisfaction. I'm trying my best. I won't quit. I'm trying not to disappoint. _

_Again and again. _

_Here we go just to balance you out. _

_I'm on fire, and this is about how our song came on and we sang along. _

_So sing along.__  
><em>

- "Again and Again", The Umbrellas

"Hey now, how was I to know?" he said, defending himself. "I mean, she was slightly older than most of the whores in town and she had been a field nurse since nearly the beginning of the war. She wasn't shy about being naked before me – hell she had her clothes off before I did."

"I guess that makes it all better then."

"Listen, like I said, how was I to know? I thought at the time her reaction was a bit exaggerated, but put that down to my prolific skills. It wasn't until I had trouble getting inside her then heard her yelp once I did that I realized what I'd done." He looked down at me, "Besides, she wasn't the only virgin I would ever have?"

I removed my arm and raised an eyebrow at him, "You can hardly call me a 'virgin' when we met."

"Maybe not using the using the strictest of definitions, but . . ."

"Alright," I said, waving him off, "go on. What did you do next, jump off her and demand an explanation?"

"Are you kidding me? She was downright insistent that I finish! She said that although she wanted to get married, she doubted that she'd find anyone who'd suit her ways, that she didn't want to get too old and not at least know what it was like."

"Most women don't enjoy their first encounter."

"Not if they start off with me! But for good measure, I fucked her a few more times that night just to make sure whatever memories she had would be good ones."

I rolled my eyes and sighed loudly.

"That's not the half of it."

I groaned.

"Then her departure got postponed by a number of weeks, some problem with the paperwork – happened all the time back then, as administrative staff, just as sick of the war as those on the field, abandoned their posts like roaches fleeing when you turn the lights on. I was still actively avoiding Torchwood and who knows what was going on with Richard's return ticket. By this time, he'd resurfaced and we returned to our gallivanting as a team of three."

"Just in time?"

"Yeah, I was getting that stupid feeling again."

I wondered if he'd ever get that feeling about me.

"Richard was strangely excited himself but whenever I tried to ask him why, he would shoo me off, saying he was waiting on something and would tell me later."

"You stopped sleeping with Anna?"

"No sense feeding a fire that can grow all by itself." He paused, then said, "I've never been able to predict who I was going to fall in love with – it just washes over me without my knowing and suddenly I'm there, not quite sure where 'there' is or how I got to it." He paused again, "Don't get me wrong, it is a wonderful feeling but for me, wrought with host of potentially tragic outcomes." He sucked in some breath, letting it out slowly as he talked on, "Anyway, I was enjoying watching those two banter back and forth again, arguing about every conceivable detail of the upcoming Treaty of Versailles, the Russian Revolution, and Wilson's League of Nations. I shouldn't have been surprised at what happened next, as they were quite cute together and I was increasingly feeling like a third wheel."


	5. Chapter 5

1

Chapter Five

_Cause I've been there before and I deserve a little more_

_I belong in the service of the Queen_

_I belong anywhere but in between_

"Rain King", Counting Crows

"Finally, Anna's departure orders arrived," Jack continued, "and we were all going to meet the night before the goodbye bash the base and the unit nurses were throwing her. Richard arrived at the café we frequented before I did. Before I could take my seat, he pulled a delicate silver engagement ring dotted with diamond studs from his breast pocket. He said it had been his grandmother's on his father's side and he wanted to give it to Anna tonight. He'd been writing about her to his family since his days in the hospital, how she was his angel – the one he was waiting for - and they encouraged him by sending it. How it arrived safely to the base was a miracle itself."

"How did that leave you?"

"Feeling like a heel. He talked incessantly about how he had their lives all planned out – he was going to pharmacy school and they would open a small clinic together - and how grateful he was that his 'manhood had been spared'. He admitted that they had slept together once – he had to be sure he could be a full husband to her. That night sealed the deal for him – he knew she was the one."

"Jesus, he had no idea!"

"Why would she tell him and risk looking like some sort of slut? I imagine too that it was him she was really in love with. And what made it so bad was he then he begged me not to tell her about him and me – said that although she was open about most things, he felt he couldn't count on this and didn't want her to loose respect for him."

"I'm sorry."

He put a brave face on things, "Don't be, not about that at least." He sighed anyway, "Because things got even more interesting the next night at her goodbye party. Everyone was whooping it up – well everyone except for Richard who was busy in his spot dressing up so he could pop the question in front of one and all. However, the guest of honor was nowhere to be found ten minutes after everything got started. I found her in one of the back beds vomiting yesterday's lunch. She took one look at me and started crying, in terrible fear of what her brother will say when he found out. I took her in my arms like a preacher comforting his congregate, encouraging her to return to the party where salvation was awaiting her. Albeit confused, she followed me back. Richard, full of happy anticipation, must've dismissed her red eyes as pre-departure sadness. He asked her to marry him right there in the middle of the mess hall surrounded by good friends and grateful former patients."

Shocked by the whole thing, I finally sat up on my elbows and asked, "What did you do?"

"I left. Jumped on a freight headed toward the coast. I never saw them again."

"But Jack, the baby could have just as likely been yours!"

"No it wasn't," he said turning away from me. "It was Richard Cooper's child." Was that a tear saw fall down his face?

I sat up fully, feeling somewhat foolish about my current state of undress as it was out of place considering the shift in mood. Jack stood up and walked over to the stack of photos, my curiosity about which ran like a bullet shot from an automatic straight through Jack's heart. He shifted them back and forth, pushing some aside, lingering on some and likely avoiding others. He reached across the desk to pouring hypervodka into his vacant shot glass. He downed it swiftly and gathered his clothes from the floor, announcing, "I need some fresh air. Put these somewhere far away."

I gave him a moment to finish with his clothes before I too stood and dressed. By the time I was done, he had already left, saying nothing to me. I emptied the kettle, prepared the coffee maker for the next day and straightened the couch. I too felt bad for I was the one who made him talk thus I didn't want to look at the pictures anymore. When I had everything cleaned and ordered it was all I could to avoid touching them. So I haphazardly stack them up and looked for some safe place off where they could stay hidden until the next nosy Ianto Jones came into Jack's life, say in 150 years. I took a large manila envelope from Jack's desk drawer, hurriedly stuffed the photos inside when something caught my eye.

It was a photo I had not noticed before, obviously after Anna had the baby. It was on official Torchwood paper. Who had taken it and why was it here? Anna, carrying a chubby toddler, was standing close to Richard, who now sported a mustache in the fashion of that time. It was a close up, so I could see Anna's features more clearly than before. Jack was right, she was a very pretty girl and increasingly familiar to me.

It swept over me like revelations typically do, slowly and in ever increasing warm waves of certainty. Question was had Jack seen this particular photo? Written in typical consistent, home office official styling, on the back of photo was the inscription, "Taken May 5, 1920. Richard and Anna Cooper with their son, Robert."

I put the remaining photos, of Jack, Anna, and Richard, in the envelope and seal it – marking on the outside, "Jack Harkness, personal, circa 1919". I locked those in a second safe I keep for those things of Jacks he'd rather forget about but still needs. I then put the last photo under my arm and grabbed the tray with the coffee and teacups, heading to the small kitchen area off from the conference room. After cleaning and drying the dishes, I took the photo into Owen's medical unit and turned on a Bunsen burner where I burned the photo to ashes.

Gwen's father's name is Robert.


End file.
